


have you seen me?

by alligatorblood



Category: Camp Rock (Movies), Radio Rebel (2012)
Genre: F/F, what about it, yes i am writing camp rock x radio rebel fanfiction in 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alligatorblood/pseuds/alligatorblood
Summary: Former teen popstar Stacy DeBane returns as a counselor to the camp that launched her into stardom eight years before. There she reunites with Tess Tyler, the rebellious rocker daughter of music producer TJ Tyler and her ex-best friend.
Relationships: Tess Tyler/Stacy DeBane
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	have you seen me?

**Author's Note:**

> aha...i wrote this for me, but you guys can read it <3  
> T for slight language!

**2004**

The drop-off lot is crammed with kids spilling out the side of a yellow bus. Nobody can get in or out because of the two stretch limos log-jamming the place. One holds twelve-year-old Tess Tyler, self-conscious about her knee-high Chuck Taylors but inclined to bite the head off of the first person that says anything about them. Her nail polish is black, her fishnets show through the gaping holes in her black jeans, and there's a fake silver spike through her eyebrow that made the limo driver take a step back when he picked her up from the airport. She's annoyed that her hair is blond, pissed that her mom wouldn't let her dye it black and red before camp. She's a junior rocker this year and she's ready to wipe the floor with every last one of them. She grabs her guitar case and steps out into the dirt lot, lowering her sunglasses as the other limo girl hops out before her own driver can open the door.

She's about Tess' age, but she looks a lot younger. Probably because of the pink blush and the actual tiara on her head. She's at least wearing jean shorts like a normal kid, but the tiara has a pink jewel in the center and none of it looks like plastic.

Pretty much everybody is looking at her and _not_ at Tess' Chucks which she appreciates. Though they don't seem so out there anymore. The other girl beams at everyone, Tess included and waves with both hands. Only a couple people wave back, and that seems to disappoint her. She looks to Tess, of all people, as if for support. Tess rolls her eyes and waves back. A little. More of a finger twitch really, but the girl is overjoyed.

It isn't until the old PA system coughs to life and summons them over to the outdoor stage for orientation that everybody stops looking at her. Tess follows the crowd led by the older kids who come here every year and dance everywhere they go. She feels a warm hand slip into hers and stops dead on her feet. That's funny. She doesn't remember ordering a set of shimmery pink painted fingers to link through her own. One glance up and of course, it's the princess. It was the wave, wasn't it? Stupid.

"God, I'm so excited!" the princess says, practically singing the words and she's not half bad. "Do you know what cabin you're in?"

Tess tries to shake her hand free, but the girl has a glittery _grip_ on her. Plus her long brown hair is all fluttery in the wind and getting stuck in her lip gloss. Tess considers fixing it for her but realizes she hasn't answered the question yet. "Uh, Vibe? I think."

"Ohmygoddd, oh god! No way! Me too!" The girl jumps, like full-effort leaps into the air taking Tess' arm with her, and all Tess can do is perch her sunglasses on the top of her head and stare bullets at her. "I've never met anyone with a longer limo than mine."

Tess wants to rip her hand away and tell her that she still hasn't because they aren't even meeting right now, but that would probably make her cry and she's wearing a lot of makeup. It would be kind of tragic.

"I'm Stacy DeBane. My dad's a millionaire." She doesn't seem to know that that's bragging, and Tess can't tell if that's better or worse. Probably worse in the long run. Her eyes are very blue.

"I'm Tess Tyler. My mom is TJ Tyler," she says flatly.

Stacy, still looking at her like Christmas morning, tilts her head to the left and she says, she really says, "Who?"

Tess smiles. She lets Stacy hold her hand all the way to orientation.

...

**2017**

_Former teen pop sensation Stacy DeBane left the recording studio at Starfire Records this afternoon in what some are calling a high-grade temper tantrum. The starlet rocketed into fame in 2009 alongside Connect 3 frontman Shane Gray after their showcase performance at the acclaimed Camp Rock went viral, garnering hundreds of thousands of views in the first few days. Unfortunately, this is not the first time the singer has walked off a project. Sources say just last month she stormed off the set of her interview with popular music blog LiveWired. A few days later a collection of interviews from various anonymous individuals who shared creative spaces with Miss DeBane was published on LiveWired's blog claiming her inability to work with others, her explosive temper, and the fact that she hasn't written a song herself since her first critically acclaimed album,_ Contact Sports _way back in 2011. The question remains, will Stacy DeBane manage to charm her way back into the public's good graces or will she let this behavior cost her her record deal?_

.

Stacy has the scandal rundown on her saved to her phone. She listens to it while she works out. Her therapist suggested yoga to calm her or boxing to burn off all the rage. Turns out she's got a lot of rage.

Her limo will be here in fifteen minutes and she hasn't showered or packed yet. Albert's been driving her since she was ten, and he's probably the most stable thing she has going right now, which is sad. But he seems to like her. He doesn't even mind that when he knocks on the door she's still punching her life story into the hanging bag on her back patio. He helps himself to some cucumber water while she showers and tosses whatever clothes she can find into her duffel.

When she's ready to leave he asks her if she's excited to go back to Camp Rock for the first time in eight years. She doesn't tell him that it's basically court-ordered like the therapy, but something tells her he already knows.

.

On the road, she gets a message from Gavin Morgan, an old camp friend. It's a link to his band's latest single on Spotify. She plays it, smiling at the same garage band sound they had back when she considered him like a brother. She goes to the Gs page and scrolls through their discography. They've released three albums and a handful of singles since 2012 and seem to have gathered a decent following.

She puts the song on her Instagram story, happy they made it off the ground. Always knew they would.

At the bottom of their page under similar artists, there's Tess Tyler, smiling, a sunflower in her wavy blond hair. Tess has one EP out. Stacy can't bring herself to listen.

.

It's late when the limo bumps along the dirt road to the camp. Stacy watches out the window as they pass the camper drop-off lot in the twilight. It looks smaller than she remembers, the whole place does. Smaller and older. But she can still feel faint traces of the same excitement she felt as a kid. She pulls her headphones out when they stop, spotting Dee LaDuke, waving on the front steps of the giant lake house turned counselor cabin.

She's out before her driver can make it around to her door. "Thanks, Albert!" she calls over her shoulder as she walks over to Dee, who already has her arms out.

"Have fun, kiddo," Albert says, chuckling to himself as he goes for her luggage.

"Look at you!" Dee exclaims, pulling back from their embrace. "Miss Pop Idol. All grown up." For her part, Dee looks just the same. Big hair, bright smile, penchant for suede. "Are you excited? I'm excited. We've got a lot of campers this year."

"I'm-"

"Do my eyes deceive me?" a very familiar voice calls from the front door. "No, it can't be."

Stacy waves. "Hey, Brown."

He jogs down the stairs to meet them, silver-haired now which somehow makes him look a little less goofy than she recalls. He hugs her, and Stacy suddenly remembers how at home she felt here as a teenager. She wonders if she'll ever find that feeling again.

"Thank god you're here. When the label called me and told me I had to keep it quiet, I thought they were joking. Rushed out and told Dee here right away. Whoops." He shrugs and leads them both into the lakehouse. It's nice inside, or about as nice as a communal space shared by a bunch of college students for three months every year can be. "You're a counselor now, so you've graduated to the big kid house."

The living room is huge and open and already littered with instruments and snack food and crumpled up pieces of notebook paper. Most of the staff moved in earlier this week to prepare for the campers. It wasn't until two days ago that Stacy even knew she was coming.

"As you can see," Brown says, pulling a pair of swim trunks off of a potted plant and tossing them aside, "this is the common area. I suggest you find some other spot if you want to hear yourself think. All the bedrooms are upstairs. Dee'll help you get settled, but you probably remember how it goes."

Brown heads for the door. "Oh, and don't forget. Orientation tomorrow. Ten AM. The groove waits for no one, Stacy." He plucks an invisible bass.

Dee shakes her head as he leaves, bouncing down the front steps. "He just gets worse with age." She lifts one of Stacy's bags. "Anyway, let's go see your room."

.

The last time she was here had started out as one of the greatest summers of her life. So good, sometimes even now, eight years later she lies awake thinking about it. Even after all her years in the spotlight, she hasn't found anything quite like the feeling of making music from the ground up in this place, surrounded by her friends, completely unaware of the world around them.

The real world waiting for them.

She gets up and walks to the picture window overlooking the still surface of the lake, wondering if kids still write songs under the trees just off the beach. If they still throw the soloists into the lake the night before Final Jam for good luck.

She wonders if her name is still carved into the second to last plank on the dock, the last thing you'll see before plunging into the dark water below.

…

**2004**

Tess starts a food fight.

It's two weeks into camp and instead of helping Tess dip-dye the ends of her hair with Kool-Aid or becoming rock stars together like they're supposed to, Stacy is crying her eyes out in the corner of their cabin because people keep making fun of her crown. This is a daily occurrence at this point, and Tess has had enough of it. Stacy can't even sing she's so distraught, and Tess is running out of extra-strength Tylenol. So she does what any migraine-riddled twelve-year-old with a half-inch fuse and just enough clout from her monolith of a mother would do: she drags Stacy by the wrist into the mess hall where campers of all ages are eating lunch.

"Hey mouth-breathers," she shouts. Everyone stares and it's _horrible_ , but she holds herself together. She points to Stacy's crown, crooked from the run here. "Are you guys _really_ still laughing about this? Are you braindead? It was funny for like _three_ seconds two weeks ago. Look at her? Does that make you feel good? Screw off, or say it to _my_ face, okay? Okay."

Nobody really says anything. The older kids weren't listening to her to begin with, but the younger kids look genuinely intimidated which has a little pride blooming in her chest. Satisfied, she turns to leave, but of course some court jester in the back coughs over the word 'princess' which isn't even offensive- or creative- but what did she _just_ say?

She spins around and stomps toward the dweeb's table. Right away, she knows it was Gabe. He thinks he's funny, he thinks he's a riot. He thinks his stupid bubblegum bad-boy pop is hard rock. What does he know about Stacy DeBane? She climbs up onto the table and glares at him. He smiles up at her. "Hi, Tessy."

She kicks his burger into his face. "Hi, Gabe."

For a moment, nobody moves, not even Tess. She didn't really think about the after part. But then, from deep in the senior section, a boy throws his head back and screams: "FOOD FIGHT!"

And from there, societal convention is temporarily unlearned, and everyone goes ham.

Narrowly dodging an entire tray of chili dogs, Tess finds Stacy in the chaos and pulls her out the side door before too much damage comes to her silly sequined dress and her flowy hair.

When they get back to their cabin, Stacy sits on Tess' bed and pulls garlic fries out of her blond hair.

"You better not be putting any glitter in."

Stacy giggles and Tess is relieved that the crying seems to be over for now. "Can I braid your hair?"

"Why would you ask when you're already doing it?" Tess sighs. "Fine. But I'm taking it out when you're done."

Stacy is halfway through the first French braid when her fingers slow down. "How come you've never asked me to take it off?"

Tess shrugs and picks at her nail polish. Somehow she let Stacy convince her that a hot pink accent nail would be super goth. Lies. "I just want you to be yourself."

…

**2017**

The sharp sting of ice water up her nose has Stacy swinging like the cage match of her life before she realizes it's just Brown, laughing in the doorway with a giant water gun at his side. "Easy, Slugger."

"Brown, what the hell?" She pushes her partially soaked hair out of her face.

"Stace, I knocked. Celebrity means nothing here."

"What are you talking about?"

"Orientation," he says slowly. "Just because MTV gives you a trophy every year doesn't mean I'm gonna. No special treatment. That was the deal with your label, but I like it." He throws her a towel. "Outside in five, your highness."

After he's gone, Stacy shakes herself awake and squeezes some water out of her hair. At least Brown's having fun.

.

She takes fifteen minutes because she's Stacy DeBane and _not_ because she's famous. Besides, Brown wants her to parade her in front of three hundred campers as their celebrity counselor. It's just not the time to show up in soaked pajamas and messy hair.

By the time she makes it out of the house, she can already hear a band playing. Probably returning rockers showing off what they've learned here over the years. Connect 3 always played when she was here. Shane nearly taking the mic stand to the floor with his weird dancing and Nate doing his best to keep Jason from stage diving into a bunch of scrawny-armed junior rockers.

At least this group sounds polished, and god, they're _loud_. She can feel the bassline from the other end of camp.

As she gets closer, it's clear how much the camp has grown since she was last here. The crowd around the outdoor stage is huge. They cover the entire lawn all the way up to the dirt road that circles the whole camp. She's so shocked by the campers, she doesn't really notice the group on stage or the straight path that starts magically clearing as she gets closer.

"Alright, for how many of you is this your first year?" the girl on the stage calls out.

There are a few nervous cheers from the bolder junior rockers.

"Oookay. We'll work on that," she says, unimpressed but still good-natured. "Returning rockers make some noise!"

The majority of the crowd erupts, throwing their hands up.

"Alright, this one's for you, ju-" the girl stops abruptly at the exact second Stacy looks up.

God, no.

Where's Brown with his water gun, where's the ice water, where's her red sheets because this is a dream. She's decided it's a dream because it can't be _her_. She who plays every instrument, dreams in song lyrics, and sings like an angel with acid-damaged vocal cords- in the best way possible.

It's Tess Tyler, looking every bit as electrocuted as Stacy feels, and yeah, she's pretty sure Tess still hates her.

Why the hell didn't Brown warn her?

The campers shift around awkwardly, looking for the bolt of lightning that took away their dedication. A few of the more observant eyes fall on her, and it clicks.

"Is that?"

"Oh my god!"

"That's Stacy DeBane!"

"My sister loves her!"

" _I_ love her!"

Dee LaDuke climbs up on the stage and takes the mic from Tess who doesn't look as shocked anymore as she looks angry. She pushes her bass into Gabe's chest and storms off the stage, disappearing behind the welcome center.

"Alright, settle down everyone," Dee says, trying to get some control back. "Thank you Tess Tyler and Gabe LaViolet of the Gs, who as some of you know are Camp Rock alumni, and some of the best if I do say so! Now if you'll put your hands together for _another_ Camp Rock alum, and your celebrity counselor, Stacy DeBane! Come on up!"

Leave it to Dee to have to rescue things when all the tumultuous rockstar temperaments don't align perfectly. And as Stacy gets up on the stage beside her and waves to yet another crowd of adoring fans, standing where Tess should _still_ be standing, she knows Dee's going to have to pull some world-class miracle bullshit to get them all through this summer.

…

…

**2011**

The breakup was all over social media when it happened. _Supernova Pop Couple Burns Out, Love is Dead._ At the time, Tess hadn't been all that surprised they didn't last, but now, five months later, staring at her from the number one spot on iTunes' top 100 albums, is _Contact Sports_. She knows without looking that it's the breakup album. What else could it be?

From the first song, Tess is hooked. And despite her own feelings about the singer, she's pleasantly surprised to see the lead writer listed on each track is Stacy herself. It makes her think back to all those nights at camp they spent by the water trying to fuse their original lyrics together into musical Frankensteins. Stacy had such a beautiful voice, but she'd always struggled with songwriting. That's where Tess came in. And it worked really well right up until it didn't.

But _Contact Sports_ is something else entirely. The whole album is beautiful and nuanced, the embodiment of haunted longing and how visceral it feels to hate somebody even though you miss them. Even Stacy's voice, her perfect voice, breaks in places and strains over lines that hurt her.

_I'm gentle but I can't move slowly/don't you dare say you do not know me._

Tess has it on repeat for months after the release. She covers the opening track and posts it on her SoundCloud. She dreams about it.

The one drawback she finds after listening to it for the hundredth time is that it's impossible for her to imagine Stacy feeling so deeply about, of all people, Connect 3's Shane Gray.

…

**2017**

The food isn't nearly as good as it was back when Mitchie's mom ran the kitchen, but Stacy is glad to see that they still use Connie's vegetarian options. She's about as hungry as the nervous junior rockers right about now, but she sits with some of the other counselors anyway, willing them to talk about just what exactly a counselor is supposed to do. Her manager didn't really give her the rundown, and all she can pull from her experience as a camper is that they sometimes lead classes if Brown and Dee are busy. Judging by the number of campers crammed into the mess hall, it looks like she's going to be leading a lot of Intro to Hip Hop classes.

A plastic tray lands loudly across from her, and when she looks up, her first instinct is to roll her eyes before she remembers that they sort of ended up friends at the end of her last year at camp. "Where's Gavin?"

"Solo recording." Gabe LaViolet grins at her. His teeth are even bigger than she remembers. He's not afraid of her like the other counselors. He knew her before. "Stace, Stace, Stace. Do you think anyone would believe me if I told them you used to wear a tiara? Every day for the whole summer. Remember that?"

Tess walks by with her own tray and smacks the side of his head. "How about I tell all the juniors about all those _Dear Sweet Stacy_ love letters we found under your bunk that one year?" She drops down in the seat beside him, smiling easily. She's wearing black like always, her arms are half-covered with tattoos, and the stud through her eyebrow is definitely real now, but she's still the same Tess. Sunny despite the getup. Sharp-eyed and wicked pretty, just how she lives in Stacy's memories.

"Oh, are you done with your little Tesstrum?" Gabe rubs his chest where Tess had shoved her bass at him earlier. "I think you bruised my pec."

"What pec?" She looks over at Stacy for the first time since orientation, the first time in years. She hesitates before smiling a little, not quite nervous. Just knowing. "Hi."

Stacy feels herself brightening against the guard she threw in place the moment she saw her up on that stage. "Hi, Tess!"

Tess laces her fingers together and rests her chin on them, blue eyes sparking, and Stacy already feels like an idiot for getting her hopes up. She's seen Tess friendly. This isn't it. "So, how'd you manage to fuck up so bad they had to send you back here?"

.

It does not get better.

It is not the barefaced aggression that Stacy remembers vaguely from their early days at camp. It's not intimidation or menace or even contempt, really. If hard-pressed to put a name to it, Stacy would say it's outright avoidance. Unsubtle and bordering on comical at that. Stacy isn't really sure what she was expecting. Maybe this is all they'll ever be.

If she walks into a room, Tess will excuse herself and walk straight out. She'll only talk to Stacy if they're in a big group. It goes unnoticed by exactly no one.

After a week of this sort of thing happening regularly, Clarey, a bratty twelve-year-old piano prodigy from Colorado, and one of Stacy's biggest fans, taps on her counselor's shoulder and asks her point-blank, "What did you do to Tess?"

There are quite a few things right off the top of her head, but for Clarey's sake she just says, "I cut her in the lunch line."

"Oh." Clarey nods sagely. "Maybe you should give her your ice cream at dinner."

"Maybe," Stacy says quietly. She buckles the girl into her bright red life jacket and hands her a set of oars.

Clarey looks sourly at the canoe they're supposed to race against the boys in, and Stacy can tell that she'd much rather have followed Tess out of the equipment shed and back to one of the music rooms. Tess is all her campers can talk about. How cool she is, how she gives them five minutes at the beginning of her music classes to form bands and compete against each other, how she shoved Gabe into the lake two nights ago just because.

"What does this have to do with music?" Clarey asks as they push the canoe into the water.

"I don't know."

"This sucks."

"Then write a song about how much it sucks," Stacy says, forgetting she's talking to a child. Clarey glares at her and she relents. "I'll help you with your singing later?"

The girl brightens marginally. "Fine."

It's not lost on her that she royally sucks at all this.

…

**2006**

Tess gets back to the cabin at around sunset. The tops of her shoulders are a little sunburned from sitting on the edge of the dock and brainstorming some lyrics with Barry and Ella. They're performing at Campfire Jam together, and they wanted something high-energy to get the crowd going, which isn't exactly what Tess is used to writing. But Dee's always going on about pushing the boundaries of your style and what you're comfortable with. She'd never say it out loud, but she's proud of what they ended up with.

The lights are off inside, but she can hear Stacy talking with someone or… chanting, more like. She follows the sound to the back corner of the room where Stacy and Kim from Cabin Treble are holding hands over a candle, a heart-shaped necklace and a magazine flipped open to a glossy full-page photo of Shane Gray.

"Uh, Stace?" Tess whispers. "What're you doing?"

"Shh!" Stacy pulls one hand free from Kim and pats the spot next to her. Tess joins the weirdo circle, holding back laughter for Kim's sake. She seems really into it. She hasn't opened her eyes yet or even stopped chanting for a second.

Tess eyes the magazine photo, not really getting it. Shane's around their age and he's Brown's nephew, sure, but he dances like he's trying to get sand out of his swim trunks. And in the interview he did for the magazine's compatibility quiz, he said his ideal girl likes mozzarella sticks and can do a backflip. "Do you think he's cute?"

Stacy scrunches her nose. "No. We're doing this for _Kim_. She's seen Connect 3 live eight times. She got this love chant online. It's supposed to call his soul to hers or something."

Tess tries to pick up the chant, which really just sounds like a bunch of fake Latin words thrown together, but Kim is so into it, so Tess lets her have her moment. But after five minutes, Tess can't take it anymore. She leans her shoulder into Stacy's and whispers, "I wrote you a song."

In less than a second, the circle is broken, the candle blown out, and the magazine is sliding to a stop halfway across the room.

"Can you play it for me?" Stacy asks, turning the lights back on. She grabs Tess' acoustic from the corner.

"No," Tess says, laughing. "But I can teach _you_ how to play it."

Stacy's eyes light up, and Tess can tell it's one of those things she writes about in her sparkly purple diary every night. They sit across from each other on Tess' bed, and even Kim sticks around to listen, clutching the magazine to her chest, whispering the chant to herself.

"It's really simple." Tess positions her fingers over the frets. She shows her two chords and lets her practice them in that completely zeroed-in way she has when she's trying to burn stuff into her brain. "Just play the first one, and go down into the second one when you feel it, okay?"

"Okay."

Tess still isn't too comfortable singing without playing at the same time, but it's easy with Stacy next to her, smiling like it's something huge and not just two chords and four unfinished lines.

_You're like a gentle breeze/long battles and cherry blossom trees…_

After a while, she can play it all by herself. It shocks Tess the first time she hears Stacy singing the words she wrote for her. Slower and higher and _so_ much better than Tess imagined in her head. All at once, the whole song falls together, too quickly to write down in her notebook.

"We can do this," Tess says, startling her. "You and me."

"What?"

"Your voice, my songs."

Stacy just smiles.

…

**2017**

Brown was right. Celebrity means nothing here.

It only takes a few weeks for the golden glow around her to disappear completely. The other counselors have since stopped tiptoeing past her room. Some of them step inside to say hi like they're all friends. One girl even borrows her red sweatshirt without asking and gets thrown into the lake with it on. Only then, does it really start feeling like summer camp.

But for all the concerts she's played and stadiums she's sold out, it just means nothing at all when she can't connect with a bunch of middle schoolers enough to show them how to harmonize with each other. She has better luck with her dance classes, but even then, most of the kids just want to mess around. It's not that serious, she knows, but she's starting to get that itchy feeling that would drive her out of the recording studio in a rage. The feeling that she pummels the hanging bag on her back patio to get rid of. Somewhere along the line, she lost the ability to cool her own frustration. Her therapist once said that anger without action spreads like an infection.

And she feels it especially this evening as her usual studio gets double-booked with Tess' advanced jazz class.

"I'm sorry, girls," Brown says, taking in the small crowd of campers that are supposed to fit in one tiny studio. "You know how full we are this year. You'll just have to make it work."

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Tess didn't find excuses to leave the room whenever Stacy walks in. A few nights ago, the staff had a free night while the campers watched a movie on the big projector outside. Most of the counselors took the opportunity to gather in the auditorium for an informal jam session of their own to show off what they'd been working on in between activities with the kids. It hadn't even occurred to Stacy to work on something of her own, and she was amazed how many of them were polished enough to perform. She'd hung back when she saw Gabe climbing on the stage, wanting to give Tess the same space she's so clearly given her, but it was just Gabe by himself up there with his guitar, singing about girls and money like always. Eventually, she had her share and headed back to the house. As she was leaving, she heard the distinct wail of guitar and felt cold all over. Nobody shreds like Tess Tyler, at least not here. She'd waited until Stacy was gone to get up there. It was like they couldn't even breathe the same air.

But now, Tess seems content to lead her obedient class in some warm-up stretches on their half of the studio while Stacy struggles to get her own campers to stop throwing shoes at each other. Maybe she should have picked yoga instead of boxing and learned some breathing techniques.

"Guys!" Stacy starts, but no one's listening. There's a small group of girls in the back following Tess' instructions instead, proving that they can listen, they just won't listen to _her_.

"Hey, Zoey, lead for a second, would ya," Tess says, easily weaving through her dancers. She sticks two fingers in her mouth and whistles loud enough to make ears ring. "Hey, juniors! Let's get our warm-up stretches. Let's go." She claps her hands like _let's get to it._

Even under Tess' orders, about a quarter of them are still doing their own thing off to the side. One kid's dripping water all over the place like he just ran out of the lake to come here, another slips in it then gets up and angrily chases the wet kid around the room. She wonders what exactly the lesson is that she's supposed to learn here. She's still wondering when the slippery kid loses his feet and slides right into her.

He scrambles to his feet, seeming to only now realize who she is. Mortified, he helps her up. "Shit, are you alright?"

"Yeah, just give me a second," she says, pushing out the screen door and into the humming night. It would not make much of a difference if she didn't go back in there. Or even if she packed up all her stuff and hitchhiked back to Seattle. And no one could say she's not trying. The campers are one thing, but even though the other counselors are nice enough, they have their own groups. She's just floating here, helpless to the red that's narrowing the world.

"Hey, hey," Tess says, jogging across the lawn to get to her. She's wearing black leggings and a cropped White Crows t-shirt. "They're just kids. What's the problem?"

Her skin feels hot. "I can't… _teach_ them anything."

"What?"

"I don't know how to get them to look at me, and even if they did, I have nothing. I don't know any of this stuff. That's why I came here as a kid. I wouldn't want someone like me pretending to be a teacher when she's really just here so she won't fuck up in public for a little while."

"Look," Tess says, crossing her arms, "I'm not gonna pretend like I know what's going on with you and your label, but you're doing fine here. Remember when we were thirteen? We didn't listen to anybody. That's just what it's like. But if you want to find a way to get to them, maybe try remembering what _you_ needed from this place back then. Give them that."

…

**2009**

Stacy begs her to write them a pop duet for Pajama Jam. It's not hard to write great songs when it's Stacy who sings them, but when she has to write for herself, it's like pulling teeth. If she still went to therapy, she'd think about how her mom's giant shadow has everything to do with that, but she finds it easier just to dangle her feet over the water and try to channel something fun or _bouncy_ as Stacy requested: _Something about looove, Tess!_ She'd said that this morning while hanging upside-down from Ella's bunk, trying to get rid of the hiccups.

_I like your style/I think you're kinda cool/I'm sorta into you._

It's easy to write for Stacy. She makes everything sound good.

.

A week later, they're stuck on kitchen duty, sprinkling flour on the counter so Mitchie's mom can show them how to make pizza. Tess dusts her white hands into Stacy's perfect hair, laughing when she turns around to dot her nose.

"I have never cooked before," Stacy announces, hands wrapped around Tess' biceps, eyes wide for no reason. Not that Stacy ever has or needs a reason for anything.

"That doesn't surprise me. But you're the one that got us into this."

"Um, _I'm_ not the one who wrote the song."

"You said edgy."

"I said _bouncy_!"

"Well, was it bouncy? I thought Brown's face was pretty bouncy when you said it."

Stacy smiles despite herself, looking down. She's seventeen and more beautiful than anyone Tess has ever seen before. "I can't believe I said _fuck_ in front of Brown Cesario… and like, a bunch of little kids."

"Congratulations, you made camp history."

"I think we both did," Stacy says, spinning away from her. "I loved the song, though. You're amazing, you know that? Final Jam is ours this year. No matter what. I can feel it."

…

**2017**

Confronting Tess wasn't the best idea, but at least it was something.

They'd bumped into each other on the back deck of the lake house. Stacy had been about to go for a run, and Tess was out there drying off from the lake, blond hair soaked and beading water down her shoulders.

When Stacy said hi, she'd said it back, but it was curt and clearly meant to get her to keep walking. It made her hands twitch like they do right before she starts laying into a bag. Playing it over in her head now, Stacy wonders why Tess rejecting her friendliness warranted that kind of reaction. That sudden spark of unfounded anger lighting up her muscles- anything more would have blown a limb clean off. And for what?

It's not like Tess owes her anything.

"Are you just going to avoid me all summer?" Stacy asked.

Tess shrugged and pulled at the ends of the towel over her shoulders. "I don't know, Stacy. I don't know what you want from me. We haven't been friends in years. We don't _know_ each other anymore, okay? We don't have to be friends just because we were."

.

After Campfire Jam, Stacy knocks on Dee's door with a slight headache. There are a lot of talented kids at the camp, it's always been like that, but it feels different now, having been on both sides of it.

Dee answers the door in her pajamas. "Hey, sweetie," she says, opening the door wider for her. It's dark in her room except for the big screen on the wall paused on a Final Jam performance that Stacy's pretty sure won it all back when she was about twelve. Back before she was brave enough to compete herself. Dee sees her looking. "Brown wants 'highlight videos' like this is basketball or something. He said go back ten years and make us look good. Wanna help?"

"Shouldn't be too hard," Stacy says, settling on the couch beside her. "Anything Lola Scott sang _has_ to be on there."

Dee nods, proud. "She's on Broadway now, did you hear? Just like her mom. Never competed in Final Jam. I never understood why. Speaking of…" Dee goes through her files on her computer until she pulls up footage from 2008, Stacy's second to last summer here. She hits play and the music starts, already halfway through the song. "This was always a favorite of mine- well, not _this_ part, really. But you know."

Stacy frowns a little at the video of Tess singing almost distractedly as she scans the audience looking for her mother, and nearly falling off the stage when she sees her, taking a call. She runs off the stage in tears, her backup dancers awkwardly pushing the rolling mirrors back behind the curtains.

She remembers Tess nervously telling her they wouldn't be singing the duet they planned that year for Final Jam, that she had to go it alone. She remembers how hard Tess worked on that glittery pop song that she hated, that choreography that made her uncomfortable. All of it. Just so her mother might approve of her music for once. And none of it was enough.

Onscreen, Brown comes out on the stage to smooth things over. "Thank you for your effort, Tess!" he says, looking over his shoulder toward where she ran off. "And next up we have one everybody's favorites, Stacy De-" Dee runs out on the stage with a note that Brown glances at and shakes his head. "No, we can't do that." Then to the audience: "It appears Stacy wants to bring Tess back out on stage with her, but according to the rules-"

"Tess!" someone in the crowd shouts, quickly turning into a chant as the whole place shakes with her name. "Tess! Tess! Tess! Tess! Tess!"

Brown goes off the stage for a second, and that's when he told them they could do it, but they weren't allowed to win. And back then, Stacy didn't care. She just wanted to sing with her best friend. A song they loved and spent the whole summer working on. She remembers what she said to Tess as she wiped away her tears: _forget about her, right now, it's you and me. Our words, our voices. I need you by my side._ And the incandescence in her chest when Tess had smiled at her after.

In 2008, when Stacy walked on the stage, the crowd screamed just like they would for years and years to come. But when Tess came onstage, they exploded like they never would again.

_I watch the sunrise/your eyes every time that you smile._

That year they couldn't win, but they would have.

_I don't wanna feel like this with anyone else/they don't know me like you do._

Stacy looks away as her sixteen-year-old self gets caught up in the song, the moment, her love for Tess. In that moment under those purple lights, nothing ever felt more perfect than Tess' hand in her own, heart glowing white-hot.

"Such a beautiful song," Dee says to her, pulling her from the memory playing out. "You girls always brought everyone together… we've never really got a pair like you since."

And later, as Stacy's walking back to her room, she lets herself remember the blue shock of Tess' eyes under the purple light and how it felt when the crowd cheered for them. How Tess had turned to walk off the stage, but Stacy pulled her back by their linked fingers, so happy she couldn't contain it.

She'd kissed Tess then. In front of everybody.

And then exactly one year later, they were never friends again.

…

**2009**

It's Tess' sixth year at camp. She's seventeen, her sound is polished, and by now, when she steps out of her limo, she's almost used to the way the air disappears from all the junior rockers as they stare at her and whisper to each other about her tattoos or the way she plays guitar, who her mother is. By now, she barely registers them at all. Only the second limo and the stack of luggage beside it, the empty backseat.

Stacy is by the welcome center in a blue flowered dress, talking animatedly to Brown and Ella. Brown sees Tess first and clears his throat. "Ah, Stace." He nods toward Tess. "I believe it's your other half."

Stacy turns in the morning sun, shining, blue eyes alight. All Tess can do is smile as Stacy rushes into a hug that spins them out. "Nice to see you, too," Tess says, laughing. She thinks about the last time they were together. Final Jam. Tears down her cheeks, the purple light, Stacy's lips soft on her own. Tess shudders slightly, nervous and excited for this summer. She wonders fleetingly if she'll get to kiss her again.

"I missed you," Stacy whispers into her neck, "angel girl."

It feels like a definite possibility.

…

**2014**

Tess releases her first EP, _HAVEYOUSEENME?_ to mixed critical reviews and one very negative one from her mother. She stays the hell away from Pitchfork, she doesn't want to know. She makes Caitlyn sift through user reviews on Metacritic and hides whenever a new one gets posted. Her mother warned her that she'd regret putting it out there. If anything, that only made her up the release date.

It doesn't do great at first, but she was expecting that. Really, she was. But it's disappointing like anything.

Strangely, about a month after the initial release it gains a massive cult following when in an interview for an indie music blog, Tess explains that the songs were about the messy way she navigated coming to terms with her sexuality. The most popular track, "Her Ways," features a line that carves its way into the aesthetic blogs of tumblr and the Redbubble designs of LGBT+ artists.

_It's okay to fuck her, it's okay to hold her hand._

…

…

**2007**

The moonlight shines off the lake as Tess carves her name into the dock. She rests her chin on her bent knee and looks out over the water, shivering not so much from the cold but from being out here alone, waiting for Stacy.

They just got to camp this morning and Stacy had stolen her sunglasses in the middle of the annual double limo blockade. She put them on in a swift, delicate motion. "Look at my best friend," she'd said, brushing her fingers over the semi-fresh stick-n-poke ghost on the inside of Tess' arm. "She's a badass."

"Shut up," Tess said, grabbing her glasses back and hooking them onto the front collar of her t-shirt. Stacy had glitter stars under her eyes and earrings shaped like twinned cherries. Tess hugged her, remembering in a rush just how badly she'd missed her sparkly best friend. LA and Seattle always feel too far apart.

She finishes cutting the second _S_ in her name into the wood when she feels the dock wobble beneath her. "Sorry! I'm late!" Stacy calls, sandals loud on the weathered wood. She has a lantern in one hand, a camp guitar in her other, and a notebook under her arm.

"Shh!" Curfew was about forty-five minutes ago, but they'd gotten separated after lunch earlier before Stacy got the chance to show her what she'd been working on.

"Oh, yeah." In the pale yellow light, Tess can see the remnants of her glitter stars half smeared across the tops of her cheeks. She sits beside her at the edge of the dock and sighs, a little out of breath. "I had to run around the back of the mess hall. I swear the cook heard me."

"So you learned a song?" Tess says, turning the lantern a little lower. The moonlight is nearly bright enough without it.

Stacy smiles. "No, I _wrote_ a song! My first song! Thanks to you."

"Me?"

"Well, it's about you." Stacy tucks her hair behind her ear and flips through her purple notebook. "My math teacher caught me writing it in his class, and he made me read it in front of everyone- so embarrassing." She laughs a little. "But I chose to look at it as practice. For the real thing. Right this second."

Tess smiles against the weightlessness she feels. "You… wrote a whole song about me?"

"Not a _whole_ song. It's like yours in your notebook, Tess scraps, I call them. But it's mine, so a Stacy scrap, about Tess. Anyway, I should play it now, huh?" She's talking so fast, Tess can tell she's nervous enough to throw herself into the lake.

She starts to play, and already Tess can tell how much she's put into this. She might have even taken some guitar classes at her fancy Washington private school because this is more than Tess showed her last summer. The melody is simple and maybe a little too fast for the words, but it comes together perfectly under the silvery-white moon.

_You are the ice so thin/everyone swims/built the door to your own cave/said the warm air's just great._

Tess laughs, forgetting the night, the water, the pocket knife in her hand against the wood beneath them. It sort of sounds like something she would write herself, but it's just weird enough to feel like Stacy.

"I love it," she whispers even though Stacy is still playing.

"Hold on," Stacy says, smiling, gleaming, "haven't even got to the best part. There would be words here, but I don't know them." She hums in place of the words that don't exist yet, clearly building toward something as she plays faster and louder. It's the strangest song Tess has ever heard, but she wants to poke it into her ankle and around her kneecap.

_Tess, call my room now/I wanna escape all her ways/I wanna escape all her ways._

As the guitar fades, Tess looks down at her name carved into the wood of the second to last plank. Suddenly, she feels like crying which is ridiculous. No one's ever written her a song before.

"Add me too," Stacy says, leaning over the borrowed guitar to trace a fingertip over Tess' name.

Tess nods and wipes the corner of her eye. "What's it called?"

"I don't know. 'Tess Song,' maybe."

She drags her knife through the _A_ as Stacy closes her notebook and sets the guitar aside, looking to the sky, all those stars you can't see in the city.

"No," Stacy says confidently. "It's called 'Her Ways.'"

…

**2017**

The welcome center is the only building in camp with decent wifi access. Back when she was a camper, the place was a ghost town all summer, but now it's packed whenever there's some downtime.

She finally gets to check her messages for the first time in about a week, and she's surprised to see one from Gavin, sent a few days ago, thanking her for putting their single on her Insta story and asking if Gabe is behaving himself at camp. She writes back that Gabe is being himself for better or worse.

A few minutes later, while she's answering some emails, he messages back.

_GavinMorganGs:_ _Hey! How do you like being back at camp?_

_StacyDeBaneOfficial: I like it. We never gave the counselors enough credit, though._

_GM: I know! I helped out last year. Rockstar kids suck._

_SD: Literally_

_SD: So you guys came back?_

_GM: You mean after you left? Lmao yeah, we had had to keep on living, Stace._

_GM: But we missed you. Tried to get your concert tickets one summer, but you were always sold out!_

He's not exaggerating. The early 2010s were wild for her. She shot into the spotlight almost immediately after that last Final Jam. She went from singing for her friends to selling out stadiums. It was like the world just opened up and took her, flipped her on her head. Shane had been her only saving grace. He stuck right by her until she caught her breath after about three years.

She'd gotten a message from Shane too. He's touring with his brothers through Europe and dating a model. He'd wished her good luck with wrangling the rockers and with Tess. Especially with Tess.

And yeah, so far she's needed it.

She goes back to her thread with Gavin, thumbs hovering indecisively over the keyboard. But the thought of even one more stilted conversation with her in the lake house kitchen makes the decision for her.

_SD: Hey, Gavin…do you still talk to Tess?_

_GM: Yeah, all the time. She co-writes a lot of our stuff._

_GM: Are...you guys good?_

_SD: I don't think so. She feels really far away._

_GM: I dunno, Stace. She went through a lot after you left. You guys were best friends._

_SD: I know. But it's been so long, I thought we might be able to start over. But I think we've changed too much._

_GM: Tess is still Tess, Stace. Trust me._

_GM: Maybe you should write her a song or something._

_SD: Yeah, right._

_GM: No, I'm serious! You guys were always doing stuff like that back then. Hanging out with you guys was always weird._

_GM: What I'm saying is maybe you just need to remind her that you're still Stacy too._

_GM: Oh, I know. You can wear your tiara and start a food fight._

_SD: Eight years later and you're still not funny…_

_SD: Thanks, Gavin._

_GM: Don't mention it._

.

"I'm not stupid," Clarey says the next morning as they're on their way to breakfast. She's still in her pajamas, and her short brown hair is sticking out in every direction.

"What? I don't think you're stupid. Where's this coming from?"

Clarey holds up her hand. "Save it. I know you didn't cut Tess in the lunch line."

"What?"

"I saw pictures of you two on that Wall of Fame. And Brown won't shut up about how you two always _felt the music_ or whatever about a hundred years ago." She looks up, and to Stacy's surprise, she looks a little wounded. "You could've just said you were friends."

"We're not really-"

"Yeah, I can tell. You're acting like in fifth grade when Melanie didn't invite Carrigan P. to the slumber party half of her birthday and we _all_ had to suffer for the rest of the year."

Stacy considers feigning ignorance, but really who didn't have a slumber party heartbreak in elementary school? Besides, Clarey's a lot sharper than that. "Sorry," she mutters, feeling a little ridiculous.

"In fifth grade, we held an intervention," Clarey says, yawning loudly.

"I don't think it'll come to _that_."

Clarey shrugs. "Then talk to her."

…

**2009**

They're picking up trash around the bonfire after Junior Jam- another punishment for Stacy singing _fuck_ at the top of her lungs and Tess writing it into the song in the first place. Brown's helping out this time, but Tess is just waiting for the lecture. She doesn't have to wait long.

"The juniors look up to you older campers. _You two,_ especially, you know that. You're already famous to them. I mean, you're on the pamphlet."

Tess tries to catch Stacy's eyes, feeling less serious than Brown's heart attack for sure, but she won't look up. She hasn't said much all night either which is weird because usually, Tess can't get her to stop talking.

Tess shrugs it off even though it kind of feels like a rejection. Instead, she smiles at Brown. "But it was kind of funny. Wrong, but funny."

"Well- I mean, of course, it was," Brown says, trying to cling to the cool factor he always says he has. "And when you're out in the real world you can do whatever you want, but after Pajama Jam, I can't get them to stop sing _fuck_ into songs that don't even use that word. They're like parrots, repeating you two until the end of time. They're probably saying it right now." He shakes his head but smiles fondly. "They probably feel so cool."

.

Brown lets them go when the sun dips into the treeline. They walk together in silence to the bin with their garbage bags and Stacy has still barely even looked at her.

"Do you want to go for a walk by the water?" Tess tries, attempting to feel out this weird mood she's never seen before. "Or… we could work on our set for Final Jam if you want."

"I think I'm just gonna go to bed," Stacy says, brushing her hands on her shorts. She looks up at Tess and smiles weakly, leaning in for a hug before freezing and taking an obvious and strange step back. "Goodnight, Tess."

"Uh...yeah. 'Night, Stace."

…

**2017**

Searching for Tess has proven an exercise in patience, something that's run pretty thin for Stacy these past few years.

Tess spends a lot of her extra time working with the campers, helping them navigate through the excitement and nerves of becoming performers. Unlike Stacy, no one forced her to come back. She's here out of sheer dedication to the music and the voices of all these kids. And when she's not mentoring or putting in extra time, she just vanishes, only showing up again when workshops start up the following morning. Stacy recalls her doing the same thing years ago, but back then she'd been privy to her hideouts. Now she's just as in the dark as everyone else. It's not a great feeling when you've seen the other side of it.

When they do run into each other, Tess is slight and brief, usually only nodding or saying a polite _Hey, Stace_ before breezing out of the room. Granted, it's difficult to make the same friend twice, but Stacy is nothing if not extremely and explicably determined.

So, Stacy draws stars under her eyes. Pink and blue sparkly things. It's practically muscle memory, this girlish display of individuality she was so proud of at fifteen years old. But the thing is, Tess loved it too.

And maybe Tess isn't even in her room right now, so this will all be for nothing, but not trying feels worse. Letting Tess walk out of the room after saying just two words to her is _worse_. Plus, she doesn't really want to see what a Clarey intervention looks like. So she's doing this. She's marching across the loft that connects the two upper wings of counselor housing, glitter-faced and steadfast.

Almost everyone else is outside hocking water balloons at the juniors in the weekly water fight that always starts out of nowhere but manages to draw the whole camp out in a matter of minutes. The house is quiet because of it. The perfect time to pull out her acoustic and Stacy feels herself smiling as she nears the end of the hall to the sound of a few bright notes. It feels good knowing that she hasn't completely lost touch with Tess and her ways.

The door's open and Tess is sitting on her bed, one leg tucked beneath her, notebook open beside her. She's bent slightly over a pastel green acoustic guitar, blond hair falling in her face, playing- like always- beautifully.

Tess can play more instruments than Stacy can name, and she's in the hall of fame here at Camp Rock because of the way she melts steel with her electric guitar, but Stacy's always loved her most just like this. Working through something original and complicated on her acoustic, frustrating herself over something only she can identify.

She leans against the door frame, listening, and it almost feels how it used to. Stacy feels a twinge of pain at that. She can't hope for how they were, but she'd like to see Tess smile at her again for real, or at the very least, talk to her. About anything.

"I can hear you thinking," Tess says, and Stacy startles, pulling her eyes from where they'd floated to the ceiling above the bed. Tess is looking at her curiously, still strumming, albeit distractedly, but when she sees Stacy's eyes, she stops playing completely.

"I've never met anyone with a limo longer than mine," Tess says wryly. She strums absently and shakes her head. To Stacy, it sounds a lot like _well played_ , but then, like blood rushing to a wound, Tess smiles. A ray of light.

So maybe the stars were total wish fulfillment. She'll take it. She'll take anything.

"Can I listen?"

"Yeah." Tess points to the chair by the window covered in black t-shirts. "Those stars looked better ten years ago."

Stacy laughs and moves the clothes over to Tess' duffel on the floor. "I'm out of practice. Back then I was doing them every day."

"I remember." Tess tosses the black notebook her way. Stacy barely manages to catch it without falling out of her chair.

"What's this for?"

"I'm not going to let you just sit there. You're gonna help me," Tess says, barely looking up. Then dryly: "Since you wanna act like old times so bad."

Stacy rolls her eyes, but it feels right just being here, about to take on a Tess scrap. Eight years can start to fall away just like anything. When she starts singing, she can see Tess' shoulders relax a little, too.

…

**2009**

Stacy tells Tess she can't sing with her at Final Jam this year. It's the first thing she has said to her in over a week. Tess asks her if she did something wrong, whatever it is she's so sorry, she'll never do again. All that does is make Stacy cry, and Tess thinks of all the times Stacy has comforted her after her mother cut their phone calls abruptly or simply forget about them completely, and it hurts deep in her chest that she can't do the same for her best friend. She can't even figure out what's making her so sad. What kind of best friend doesn't know that kind of thing?

So Tess says okay, and she asks if Stacy needs any help making a new set. She doesn't. Tess says okay. Stacy packs her things and moves into a different cabin.

Tess starts to hang out with Gavin more. He's just as bewildered at Stacy's sudden one-eighty. Ella and Peggy try to be diplomatic, but they love Stacy just the slightest bit more. Tess doesn't blame them. How could she?

When Final Jam comes around, Tess partners with Caitlyn instead. She gives a solid performance, but her heart's not in it. As she walks off the stage, she passes Stacy as she's about to go on. Her hair is straight and long. Tess wishes her good luck, and she only looks away and nods.

And then Tess has to listen to Shane Gray sing her part in the duet she spent all summer writing for _them_.

…

…

**2017**

Maybe things get better. Or start to.

Tess still makes herself scarce, but Stacy's starting to accept it. This new-toned Tess, no longer a teenage ball of fire except when it counts. It's clear that she loves this place and the kids, the music, and how it tightens up as the summer wears on, as the kids start to get a better handle on their sound.

Stacy spends some extra time with Clarey and a few other junior rockers to work on their vocals. She is not prepared for the unhindered high notes of unself-conscious kids. She leaves the lessons with ringing ears and frayed nerves, but it's worth it just to see the fearless way these kids dive into something they want, to see their steady improvement under her direction. It's unexpected, really, just how much she enjoys it.

.

Dee solves the double-booked dance room issue by moving Stacy's juniors class into the welcome center, but it lasts for about a day before Tess' class storms the place and takes them back.

They fuse into one chaotic and varied hell class that's less about learning new dances and more about showing the advanced kids how to walk the juniors through their snow cone highs and into a jeté. It mostly results in half the class on the floor and Tess laughing so hard she turns red.

Some of the dancers even find Stacy in their free time and gush about how excited they are for the next week.

.

Stacy sits cross-legged at the end of Tess' bed, flipping through her lyric notebook, skimming half-formed ideas she stray thoughts. _Park that car/drop that phone/sleep on the floor/dream about me._

_I don't wanna lose this feeling you give me/it'll kill us when our feet touch the ground._

Tess is playing her keyboard which is rare, but she's been trying to think of ways to nudge Clarey from her strictly classical sensibilities. And Stacy can't exactly hide the rush of adoration she feels when something clicks in Tess' head, and she sticks her pen in her mouth to play it right that second.

"She wants to sing," Stacy says. Clarey is one of her favorite campers. She always walks around with a pink sheet music binder clutched to her chest and a permanent rage cloud bending the air around her.

"Yeah?" Tess looks up. "She told you that?"

"Of course. She tells me everything. She's the president of her middle school's chapter of my fan club."

Tess raises an eyebrow. "Sometimes I forget who you are."

"Me too," Stacy said airily, "except then I walk into my closet and it's full of Teen Choice awards."

"I did not vote for you. I did not contribute," Tess says, testing out a couple of keys and grimacing in disapproval. This time, Stacy understands her desire to get it just right. Clarey could pick out imperfections a mile away. She's a better pianist than Tess by far, but then, she's a better pianist than just about everyone. But she's also only twelve and on summer vacation. And hating it.

Stacy closes the notebook in her lap. "I just want her to have fun here like I did, but she seems set against it."

"She has fun. In her own way." She plays something clear and energetic that quickly slides into frantic. Essentially, it's Clarey in a fifteen-second rush. "Do you think this'll give her a heart attack?"

"Yeah."

.

Tess doesn't like her music.

Stacy thinks it's kind of funny the way she bends around complimenting or insulting it directly. Like a child's drawing. Stacy can't exactly blame her. At camp, they were writing about their shared senses of loneliness they felt at home or the warmth of friendship, and now, Stacy's most recent single is called "Two-Night Stand," and sounds like it was mixed in a literal blender. She imagines Caitlyn Gellar shuddering every time it comes on the radio, which is all the time.

Not that Stacy sees anything wrong with fun pop songs. Not everything has to break your heart, but ever since _Contact Sports_ in 2011, her label hasn't been in support of her original songs. The album didn't sell well enough to justify the time it took to put together despite the critical acclaim.

It was just easier for everybody if she fit herself into the image they created.

.

They're just getting back from canoeing across the lake with some campers when a group of juniors runs by, blasting her voice from a bluetooth speaker.

Tess looks over her shoulder after them and raises an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"I don't know. I get featured on a bunch of like, SoundCloud rappers' songs so the label can suck them up. Half the time, I don't even recognize my own voice." She makes it a little further before she realizes that Tess isn't beside her. She's still standing by their canoe, staring at her like she has three heads. "What?"

"You _do_ hear yourself, right?"

"No, I _just_ said it rarely sounds like me."

Tess sighs and shields her eyes against the sun. The tops of her bare shoulders are a little red. She abandons nicety, and Stacy loves her for it. "No offense, Stace, but your music sucks."

"Oh? No offense?"

"You know what I mean. You're way too talented to not even recognize your voice on someone else's track. And not just that. I hear you on the radio all the time, and it doesn't sound like you. It's like you're holding back more than half your range… It's like you don't care what you're singing."

Stacy can think of a myriad of other things she'd like to talk about _instead_ of this. She has millions and millions of fans all over the world. She doesn't have to be some struggling singer/songwriter who can't sell her own sound. All she has to do is show up and beat her voice into some lukewarm ghost of itself, and she hits the billboard top forty every single time. It's not hard, but it sure is empty.

Stacy shrugs and tries to summon some cheer. "You wanna get snow cones?"

Tess lets it go. For a little while.

…

Tess wants to know what she thinks of a chord progression she'd come up with and simply walks over to Stacy's room with her guitar. It's the first time she has come to Stacy instead of the other way around. Stacy's in the middle of a crackling phone call with her manager and is grateful for the excuse to get away.

"Oh no," Stacy says, waving Tess inside. "You're breaking up. What? I can't-" She hangs up and tosses her phone aside, then lets out a centering breath. She smiles at Tess, alight. "Hi."

"Wow, harsh," Tess says, drumming up a little transparent devastation, but she smiles afterward anyway. She's bouncing a little on the soles of her socked feet, activated. Probably over-caffeinated "Okay, listen to this."

"What is it?"

"Came up with it like, twenty minutes ago." She strums once, then grabs the neck of the guitar to quiet it. "Oh, and listen close."

"Why?"

"It sounds like you."

Stacy feels that old starburst inside her chest.

.

Gabe catches her outside the welcome center one evening. He actually vaults over the railing and lands in front of her, throwing his hands up like a gymnast sticking a landing. He bows dramatically and looks to her for applause.

"Hi, Gabe," she says, sidestepping to avoid his fanfare.

"Okay, okay," he says catching up with her easily and falling in step.

"What do you want, Gabriel?"

"Hey, woah. That's reserved for my mom and the love of my life." He touches his chest. "And I'm actually hurt that you don't want to catch up with your fellow camper of what? Six years? And I distinctly remember being friends for at least two of them."

"Two deeply, deeply annoying years."

"Fame changed you," Gabe says feigning tears. "I'm so proud."

"Really, Gabe. What do you want?"

"Ugh, fine. You make a guy feel unwanted." When she raises an eyebrow he holds his hands up. "Alright, alright. So my buddy, my bro, my bandmate G-man, GM-fire, G-mone-"

"Gabe."

"Gavin, okay. Gavin told me you were asking about Tess, and I thought, who better than me to help a girl out." He beats his fists against his chest. "Tess and I are like _this_. Super close."

"Tess hates you. She pushes you in the lake at least once a week and the juniors put it on Snapchat. Every time."

"It's just a joke we have, you wouldn't understand." He frowns. "Look, I'm serious. Ask me anything. Tess hangs out with the band all the time. I know her pretty well, and more importantly, I know her _now_. Which is more than you can say when you think about it. Like… do you even know what she does?"

Tess doesn't really have social media except for a ghost of an Instagram account and a private Twitter. Stacy hasn't been able to find out much of anything that's happened to her in the past eight years beyond the release of her EP and the fact that she's spent a few summers back here. Even when they're together, Tess just talks about the campers and songs she's into at the moment. Awful as it is, Gabe is probably the only way to learn anything without a crowbar.

"What are you getting out of this?"

Gabe grins wolfishly. "You have a little fire to you now! I like that! You were always too nice when we were campers. But I am doing this out of the goodness of my heart."

She waits.

"And so you'll tweet about my solo project to your forty million followers."

"Fine."

Gabe cracks his knuckles and starts talking a mile a minute. "Okay! The Tess Tyler Rundown! What's she been up to, you ask? She went to college, got a fancy music degree, blah, blah, blah. But then!" He throws his arm over her shoulders and points out in front of them like he's highlighting constellations. "So remember when JD Salinger wrote _The Catcher in the Rye_ and like fifty years later it became like the sadboy bible? Well, Tess did that but with music and for gay kids. I guess she didn't like the attention so much because she really quieted down after that. Now she just teaches a few electives at some high school in Long Beach. She plays with the Gs sometimes. She lives in a dope apartment with Caitlyn, y'know that crazy good DJ girl and some fancy cello girl with a scary accent, annnnnd I think that's it."

Gabe touches his chin, thinking hard. "Oh!" He smiles, looking at her sideways. "And she hasn't had a girlfriend in about a year."

"Gabe-"

"Hold on," he says, taking his arm back. For once he doesn't look like there's circus music in his head. Sincerity is strange on him. "I just wanted to say that back then… we were all cool with it, you know?"

"Tess and I were never… We didn't…"

He nods and sticks his hands in his pockets as they near the lake house. "But you wanted to, right?"

.

It's just after Popcorn Jam- a Brown invention that challenges the campers to cover a famous song in a randomly chosen new genre- and Tess hands her a pink glow stick necklace. They don't usually spend time together outside of Tess' room or their shared dance class, so Stacy jumps at the chance to walk with her. She does not care how eager she seems. She pretends not to notice the way Brown looks on after them, nodding like a deadbolt sliding home.

"I think Tara's really coming on," Tess says, referring to one of her own favorite campers. A girl who started the summer too shy to introduce herself and is now singing backup and looking more and more like she'll take a lead next time.

"Thanks to you. You encouraged her," Stacy says as they turn down the path to the water.

"And you," Tess says, twirling her green glow stick through her fingers. "I saw you helping her with her costume… It was nice of you."

They end up on the dock, and it sort of feels like they were always heading there. Legs dangling just over the water's surface, their names pressed into their palms on the old wood. The flow of time almost feels backward out here.

"Are you working on anything?" Stacy asks, at ease.

"Sort of. I have a couple of songs written. Gavin says I should just release an album already."

"You should! Your EP has over four million streams on Spotify, Tess! You have an audience."

Tess shrugs. "When you put out stuff like that, it feels like there's this expectation, you know? Like if I write about anything else, people will just…I don't know. It feels like people are just wanting more of the same thing, but I'm not _there_ anymore."

"You're in a different place."

"Yeah."

"Well, maybe your fans are too. From what I've seen, fans grow with you, and even when you're not sure about the next thing, they run straight at it and look at it from every angle. Mostly, if they love you enough, everything's the best song ever." Stacy looks at her sideways and smiles a little. "Besides, how could _you_ ever put out something less than amazing? Really."

Tess bites her bottom lip for a second, flustered. It makes Stacy feel exactly fifteen years old again, clumsily strumming a guitar and singing a song ripped directly from the lining of her heart.

"Thanks," Tess says. She's smiling now, warmly. "Well, if I _do_ come out with something, maybe you could send your sixty million followers my way just so my mom can't say she told me so."

"Of course," Stacy says, saddened slightly to hear that Tess' relationship with her mother hasn't seemed to improve over the years.

A group of counselors passes by on the path. They're all talking and laughing, probably just heading back from a jam session in the auditorium. Stacy wonders vaguely what it would be like to perform with Tess again. Just one more time. She's never felt anything quite like it since.

"Hang on, hang on, hang on, guys. I think I just found a portal back to like, 2007," Gabe speaks up, halting the group. "Tess! Stacy! I see you!"

"Yeah, fuck off, Gabe," Tess shouts.

"Isn't that sweet," Gabe says. "I knew you two would kiss and make up." He points up at the sky, "Yes! Stace!"

Leave it to Gabe to stomp on a good moment even though his enthusiasm was in the right place, sort of. But from the way it makes Tess freeze, Stacy expects she's lost her once again. Stacy touches her knee. "Forget him. He's just…just Gabe, I guess."

"I know," Tess says, then after a long minute, she lets out a breath and leans back on her palms. "Do you ever think about back then? I mean, like the year before you kinda flew out of here?"

"Yes." She twists the plastic clasp of her necklace. They're getting too close to it. "All I can think about lately, really."

Tess looks out over the water, blond hair sweeping around her shoulders in the breeze. "You know I was… I really…"

"I know," Stacy says softly. "You don't have to say it."

"I was so in love with you, Stace."

"I know," she repeats, and she can feel it bubbling in her chest, rising, threatening to come out. It's been eight years, and the time for apologizing has come and gone, but it doesn't feel right sitting here, trying to forge something new without ever giving her the explanation she deserved all those years ago. And before she realizes what's happening, she's already spilling over.

"I felt something, too," Stacy says, feeling cold suddenly. "I just didn't know what it was until these random girls cornered me in my dance class and held it in my face. I didn't think I could go back to the way we were because I was so _aware_ of it." She traces their names with her thumb, acutely aware of every star looming overhead like eyes. "It sounds stupid now, but that's how I felt… Like things would never go back to how they were before somebody else ruined it, but it wasn't someone else. It was me. _I_ abandoned you, _I_ sang our song with Shane. I ruined it all by myself, the best friendship I ever had, and I'm sorry, Tess. I'm so sorry."

Tess is looking right at her. She can feel her eyes, the intensity of the blue. Stacy feels a stab of thick, fierce regret. There is no time or place for words like that. Sometimes no matter how much you want to tell someone what's inside your head, it's the wrong thing to do.

But Tess reaches out and presses her hand to Stacy's arm tentatively before pulling her into her side, arms tight around her shoulders. When she speaks, her voice is low and only for her. "It's okay. We were seventeen. What did we know?"

"I hurt you."

"Yeah, you did," Tess whispers. "But I think I forgive you."

And Stacy can't really take much more of this warm feeling that rolls through her, a thousand times better than relief.

…

Clarey decides she wants to sing at Final Jam.

The way she says it too when Stacy is walking her to the mess hall for lunch. The girl takes the chunky orange clip out of her hair and snaps it onto the tip of her finger. Stacy tells her to hurry up or she won't get an ice cream, and Clarey responds by flipping her off with her clip finger.

"Hey!"

"Would you give me unlimited ice creams if I sang at Final Jam?"

"Sure," Stacy says, reaching for the door handle.

"Good," Clarey says, crossing her arms. "Because I already signed up."

At twelve years old, she is more confident than half the fifth-year rockers. If Brown gives her the green light, she will be the youngest camper to perform solo at Final Jam ever.

More than anything, Stacy is proud of her, but at the same time, she's worried Clarey doesn't really understand how big Final Jam really is. Everyone is dissected in front of the judges and evaluated on a level playing field. There are no age groups or consolation prizes. There's not even a second place.

"Are you sure?" Stacy asks.

Clarey nods firmly.

.

"Can you help me?" Stacy asks Tess later in her room. "I want her to give her best shot, but I don't think she really _knows_ what she's getting herself into." Tess pulls her keyboard out from under her bed, and when she looks up, she's smiling like something's funny. "What?"

"Nothing," Tess says. "It's just sweet that you're worried about that kid."

"I like her."

"I know. Me too. Not sure why. She's a little asshole, honestly." Tess leans against the bedframe and switches the keyboard on. "She's so skilled, I wish she'd take my advice and branch out."

"She wants to sing."

"Oh," Tess says, thinking it over. "Well, see if you can give her some of that angel voice you're hiding in there."

"I'm not hiding it, I just choose when to use it." Stacy turns slightly in a weak attempt to conceal her blush. Angel voice. Angel girl.

Tess scoffs but it's really just a laugh. "How about right now?"

…

Two miles into her evening jog, Stacy feels a presence behind her. She pulls out an earbud, looks over her shoulder, and sighs. It's Gabe about twenty seconds behind her on the trail, Birkenstocks slapping loudly on the packed dirt.

"Stace!" he calls, running out of breath. "Wait!"

She checks her watch before she stops running. Her pace wasn't that great anyway. When Gabe makes it to her, he bends and puts his hands on his knees. "You're a really fast runner," he wheezes.

After about a full minute, Stacy puts a mildly concerned hand on his back. "Are you okay? What are you even doing out here?"

Gabe straightens up and braces a hand against the trunk of a tree. "I was looking for you. I have updates."

"Updates? On what?"

"Tess. Tessdates." He looks off somewhere into the trees. "Wish she was more famous because that'd be a kickass tabloid blog name."

It's a little bit amazing just how far Gabe has made it with a brain that just ricochets around in his skull. Annoying as he is, Stacy doesn't exactly resent him. She just wants to run away from him sometimes.

"What about Tess?" she asks.

"I was just in the loft above the welcome center, y'know, where Tess hides. And I heard her FaceTiming Gavin."

"And…?"

"She was talking about you," he says. Stacy turns away from him suddenly, feeling warm. "I know, right? I almost screamed right there, but I had to come find you first."

"What did she say?"

Gabe holds his hands up and his eyes go wide. "I don't wanna repeat it. Gushy girl shit."

"Seriously?" she says. "Do I have to remind you of the love poems you wrote to me when we were kids? _Your lips are so pink, I can't help but think-_ "

"Please, shut up." He runs a hand over his face. "Okay, you better listen closely because I'm only gonna say this _once_."

...

Tess asks her something one sweltering early August afternoon as they're cleaning up after their dance class. Stacy is flushed from laughing at the dance her juniors threw together in the last five minutes of class. It's funny how quickly she went from dreading these kids to kind of missing them when the forty-five minutes are up.

Tess picks up her water bottle, and Stacy puts a good amount of effort into not staring at her tattoos. Especially the one across her ribs and poking out from beneath her cropped t-shirt. Her hair is carelessly tied back in a bun and she has a sheen of sweat across her forehead. She looks like she runs. A lot.

' _She's different now, stronger. But… sometimes she says things or tucks her hair a certain way it's like I'm right back there. And I feel like I have to write a song about her. I have to or I'll die.'_

"Did you hear me?" Tess asks, looking over her shoulder.

Stacy shakes her head and blinks a few times, reddening. "What?"

"I asked why you're here."

"We had a class?" she says more like a question.

"No, I mean _here_ ," she motions vaguely around her. "I know you didn't have much of a choice… I saw some of the press coverage. I didn't think it was possible that that person they were describing was the girl I grew up with, but…"

"Here I am," Stacy says with mirth. When Tess doesn't smile, she sighs and sits down on the stacked mats against the back wall. "I get these bouts of rage sometimes. I don't know when it started. But when I get frustrated or feel like nobody's listening to me, I just…"

"Detonate?"

"Yeah."

Tess sits beside her, not saying anything. When they were campers together, it was always Stacy holding Tess back from bashing people over the head with the loaner guitars. It wasn't until after Stacy joined the real world that she felt some meanness take root inside her. It started to become unexplainable why she was lashing out at the person doing her makeup or delivering her lunch order. But those things could be swept under the rug by crafty management and nondisclosure agreements. Her therapist had suggested leaving the room whenever she felt herself become enraged, but that only led to dozens of paparazzi clips of her storming out of buildings, not caring who she ran into, teeth gritted, eyes dark with rage.

"I started boxing," Stacy says after a while. "It helps a little."

"And being here?"

"At first, I thought I was getting worse. When I saw you on that stage at orientation, you looked so angry, I _felt_ it. It was because of me… I thought you or those kids would set me off, and the label would ditch me because there's no coming back from a breakdown at a kid's camp."

Tess covers her hand with her own, fingers icy from her water bottle.

"But, now…it feels like if I leave here, if I go back to my life…" she trails off, uncertain.

"You know, you were the only kid I knew of back then that didn't come here to get famous," Tess says. "It was like you just wanted to make friends and get away from your dad for a little while, so why not go to one of the biggest launchpads to stardom in the country? And out of everyone, you made it. Which is the most Stacy DeBane thing that could have possibly happened."

"And look what I did with it… I'm not _me_. Sometimes I think the only way to fix it is to just… wait out my contract and disappear." She has never admitted this out loud before, this almost-fantasy she has of falling out of the sky.

"I think… you could turn it around if you worked at it… I've never really met anyone as determined as you, but I understand why you'd want to just fade out without doing any more damage. Either way, you should fix it first, so you won't beat yourself up about it forever."

Stacy leans her head on her shoulder and imagines how easily she could be alone right now. How lucky she is that Tess is sitting here at all. She has a little over a year left on her contract that feels insurmountable. She can't begin to imagine what it will be like after she gets out of here. How she'll have to make up some profound realization she came up with while spending three months getting mosquito bites and sunburns and shepherding teenagers.

"I haven't performed live in about three years," Tess says suddenly, and Stacy sits up to look at her, pulled from her own head. "Orientation was actually my first time back on stage in forever."

Stacy balks, horrified. "And I… I _ruined_ it! You didn't even get to sing!"

Tess laughs, easily. "No, it's okay. I wasn't really looking forward to singing the Gs' 'Girl's Got Vibes.'"

"Wait," Stacy says. "Why haven't you been performing?"

She shrugs. "It was always hard for me, you remember. You always had to practically drag me onto the stage. After a while, nobody really pushed me to, and I didn't force myself. So I stopped. To tell you the truth, up until a couple weeks ago, I was barely writing or composing new stuff at all."

Tess not making music is something so categorically wrong, Stacy feels like squirming. She thinks of all the hours they've spent together these past few weeks in Tess' room going over her endless overflow of music.

"What changed?"

"In my songwriting class, one of the older girls sang a cover of a song I wrote for you. And then I saw you a little later, pissed off about something and throwing rocks into the lake." Tess smiles and elbows her gently. "I remembered how perfect everything I wrote sounded when you were singing it… That was always my secret, even after you were gone. I'd pretend like I was writing for you. I still do that."

Moved to the point of quaking, and caught up in Tess like she's always been, Stacy threads her fingers through Tess' hair and kisses her. Stars blink behind her eyelids when Tess' hands slip around her waist and pull her closer, so tight she gasps against Tess' mouth.

It's Tess who pulls away first, just when it feels like her chest might break open. She wipes the corner of her eye and shakes her head at herself. "Why do only ever kiss me when our emotions are creating their own jetstreams?"

"I could change that," Stacy says softly. "If you'd let me."

Tess kisses the corner of her jaw. Stacy closes her eyes against the feeling.

…

…

The days fall away in a torrent, a rush of summer heat and building anticipation at the fast nearing of Final Jam, the looming monolith. Stacy finds herself sought out during her downtime and pulled into classrooms to listen to rehearsals. Can she help with this tricky bridge? Does she have any tips for not hurling on the judges? What about this scarf with these high-tops?

She just got Clarey settled into a simple dream pop song that Tess is working tirelessly with her on. And she's in the middle of tweaking Tara's pitch when Brown comes knocking. Tara makes a startled squeaking noise and hides behind the piano, still painfully shy to her core. Especially when it comes to the camp directors.

"You alright there, T?" he asks, clasping his hands and taking a tentative step into the classroom. Tara's skinny arm sticks out from her hiding place and gives them a thumbs up. "Right," Brown says. "Mind if I borrow Miss DeBane for a minute?" Another thumbs up.

Stacy leads him outside, waiting to give Tara some space to do her counting or breathing exercises or whatever it is she does when she's closing her eyes so hard it looks like it hurts.

"So," Stacy says once they get to the main path that connects all the studios and classrooms. "What's up, Brown?"

"Look, I won't keep you long. I won't hold up the music, I just wanted to tell you that we're really proud of you, me and Dee. We've seen you with the kids, like Tara in there, and… I just wanted to say _that's_ the Stacy DeBane I was proud to call a camper. You've got a real knack for this, you know that? Not everyone does."

"For...what?"

Behind them, Tara starts singing again, bravely and from inside her chest like they've been practicing. Stacy turns to listen, not quite catching Brown's knowing smile. Tara nails the run they've been stuck on for weeks, and Stacy feels pride flood her.

"Teaching," Brown says. "You're a great teacher. Now go celebrate!"

.

She finds Tess on the back deck of the lake house. She's sitting on the railing with one, leaning over the notebook balanced on her knee. Stacy wonders where the words come from. Probably some gilded place in her mind, metal in the blood, music in the grey matter

They've grown closer in the past weeks. Close enough that when Tess sees her, she lights up and tosses her book on the glass table. By now, everyone else knows better than to look inside it unless they want to wake up underwater. She slides off the railing, lithe and graceful in everything she does despite the combat boots.

"Hey, I was just about to go looking for you," she says, smiling easily in the orange-hued sunset. Tess slips her arms around her waist, and Stacy melts into her, she can't help it. Brown had told her to celebrate. She can't think of anywhere else she'd rather be.

Stacy kisses her neck. Tess shivers in the golden light.

…

…

"You are _not_ doing yoga right now," Tess says incredulously from her doorway. She's carrying a bowl of cereal and probably woke up about a minute and a half ago. They're supposed to be planning to divide and conquer some Final Jam prep to help Dee and Brown out, but from the look on Tess' face, that's going to have to wait.

"My therapist suggested it. Y'know, for my _rage_ ," Stacy says, bending into a lunge.

"What happened to boxing? No, wait… that's hotter."

"Is it?"

Stacy bends into a shape she's pretty sure doesn't belong to yoga, but she likes the tilt of Tess' head as she watches her, the reason for her visit very nearly forgotten. But after a while the fake pose starts to burn for real, so Stacy calls it quits and takes Tess' cereal out of her unresponsive hands.

"You alright there?"

Tess shakes herself. Twice for good measure. "God," is all she can say.

Stacy laughs. "Shut the door, would you?"

.

One night during the last week of camp, well after midnight, Stacy's cell phone vibrates in her suitcase. She blindly reaches for it in the darkness and flinches away from the bright screen when she finds it. She hasn't been using it much lately, and as a result, there are quite a few notifications waiting for her. But the most recent if from just thirty seconds ago, from Tess. The shoddy wifi is even worse in the lake house, but it loads eventually.

_TessTyler: Hi, so. Been listening to_ Contact Sports _again. It was all you. Your words, your voice._

_StacyDeBaneOfficial: Yeah.._

It's nice to hear, but nothing that hasn't been held in her face by every music critic that's ever been put in her path. 'It's horrible or it's vapid and shallow or it's decent, but it's no _Contact Sports_.' At least Tess has the added bonus of actually knowing who she was back then. Gerard from Pitchfork can only guess, but that doesn't stop him.

_TT: You have a lot of music but... it doesn't come close._

_SD: I know_

_TT: And... Shane's a good guy. I guess it's better that it was him and not some random asshole._

_SD: What?_

_TT: Yknow. The whole album, your best album? It's about Shane, right? Your breakup._

_SD: Tess_

_TT: ?_

_SD:_ Contact Sports… _is not even remotely about Shane._

_SD: Oh my god. I can't believe this whole time I thought you knew._

_SD: I thought that's why you wouldn't look at me when I first got here._

_TT: What are you talking about?_

_SD: It's about you, Tess. Us._

_TT: No, it's not._

On the other side of the lake house, there's a loud crash mixed with a few harried curses followed up by stomping and slamming doors. Stacy gets out of bed and follows the wreckage of the Tesstrum downstairs and out the lake facing screen door just in time to see Tess fuming down the dock and screaming _FUCK_ when she gets to the end of it. It echoes for miles.

Stacy covers her mouth with her hand and goes back inside before Tess can turn around.

.

Tess comes back inside when she's sufficiently cooled off, and Stacy's waiting for her in her room, drinking tea over her notebook and trying out a few lines she hasn't been able to shake since last night when after the campfire Tess had pulled her into an empty studio and kissed her breathless her against the hall of fame, the smiling faces of their teenage selves.

Tess knocks lightly before coming inside. "Please elaborate," she says, moving to the edge of Stacy's bed, expectant.

Stacy crosses out the word _hurricane_. Too much weight. She glances up at Tess and feels a short flare of affection. No one has ever screamed expletives over a lake because of her, and it's pretty safe to say that no one else ever will.

"On?"

"You wrote one of the greatest breakup albums anyone's ever heard about _me_ and you didn't even tell me?"

"It's not technically a breakup album, Tess. And I figured you would know if you listened to it."

"It came out right after you and Shane split. I thought… _everyone_ thought…"

Stacy waves her hand, dispelling the thought. "I was never comfortable with being in a relationship with Shane, but our publicists thought it was a good idea, so we just went with it. And we actually became pretty good friends. But then Shane met someone for real, so we ended things. I just happened to release the album a little later, so the whole world thought it was about him."

"But it's not," Tess says slowly, more to herself than anything as she lies down at the end of the bed.

"Yeah… Honestly, Tess, track two is called 'Angel Girl.' I thought it was obvious. Next time I'll just sing your name a thousand times."

Tess grins. "Next time, huh?"

"Yes," Stacy says, running a hand through Tess' hair. "Our breakup album will win like, a Grammy or something."

"You promise?"

"Yeah," Stacy says, she leans over her and kisses the bridge of her nose, the corner of her mouth. "I promise."

…

Tomorrow, the buses will come and one by one the campers will file out of here and trickle back into their old lives, bright and shining with skills in places that can hopefully recognize that.

But today, right now, right this second, Stacy's almost afraid to breathe the air and disrupt somebody's equilibrium seconds before they take the stage. She has a copy of the Final Jam lineup that she crosses off each time someone comes off the stage, breathing hard and beaming with pride or brimming with tears.

Tara's set has the crowd shocked. The judges all met her at the beginning of camp and probably weren't sure if she could even speak let alone command the stage. The song she wrote is a beautiful and delicate account of her shyness and near unshakable sense of invisibility and how badly she wants people to see her.

_But I wish I was you/I still blur in the haze that you cut straight through/like you wanted me to._

Tonight she gets her wish. The crowd screams for her and when she comes off the stage, she's overwhelmed with joy. Stacy has never seen somebody quite so _alive_.

Clarey is close to the end of the list. Tess has to remind her multiple times that _she's_ not the one going out there, but she can't help the nerves. She's excited. They've been practicing together nonstop for weeks, and this is where Clarey jumps off and shows everyone what she can do.

"You wanna go punch something?" Tess asks, rubbing her back between her shoulder blades.

"What?"

"You're looking a little worked up, Stace."

"I'm okay," Stacy says, even though she can barely keep still.

"Let's get some air anyway." Tess holds her hand out, and Stacy thinks she loves her just a little bit.

.

When Clarey shuffles onto the stage, Stacy feels like crying. Pride mixed with nerves. She squeezes Tess' hand when Clarey grips the microphone and looks over at them where they're huddled just offstage one last time.

"You'll be great," Stacy had told her right before she went on.

"Yeah," Clarey said, setting her jaw and nodding as if accepting this truth. "I will be."

The music starts. The pink spotlights flood her. Clarey opens her mouth, and god, she _screams_.

Stacy is horrified, but beside her, Tess laughs. "I fucking love that kid."

"I thought you wrote her a pop song."

"I did. But when's the last time she actually did what you told her to?"

Tess grabs an electric guitar from the last set and plugs it in. When Clarey sees her, she nods so emphatically, she almost loses her footing and eats it on the bottom riser. Tess walks out, and Clarey starts up again, ignited.

Stacy gapes at the banshee of a child jumping around on the stage in her pink sequinned re-creation of one of her iconic tour outfits. Clarey thrashes her head around like a rockstar, screaming her head off as Tess does what she has always done best. And underneath her throat-ripping vocals, she's still singing the song Tess wrote for her. The track is still the same sweet, dreamy background noise set on fire by the wail of the guitar. It's so crazy, Stacy thinks it might actually work for her.

Stacy peeks around at the audience, and most of them look a little confused but a lot of the older campers are going wild in the front row. And of course, Gabe is trying to start a mosh pit.

As the song comes to a close, Clarey lets out one more sound-barrier breaking roar, jumps as high as she can, and lands with a loud _thud_. It takes a painful second for reality to set in, but when it finally does the crowd erupts so hard, the ground shakes.

Clarey runs off the stage, bright like a firework. "I did it!" she shouts, charging into a hug that nearly knocks Stacy over. "I know I didn't do it how we practiced b-"

"You were perfect," Stacy says, squeezing her shoulders. "I'm so proud of you!"

Clarey brightens like a sunbeam, and it hits Stacy like a truck. Her sour little shadow now a ball of pure light. Clarey throws an arm around Tess too. "Thank you, thank you both so much! This was the best summer ever!"

The girl runs off to find her friends- she's sure to have a lot more after tonight- and Stacy clutches her chest because her heart has grown ten sizes, she sure. What she feels is so beyond pride or joy, she can't contain it very well.

Tess reaches up and holds her face in her hands. "Are you okay? You look like you're about to cry."

"I might," Stacy says, laughing a little at the absurdity of her emotions. But at the same time, she wants to feel this way all the time.

"I'm proud of Clarey," Tess says. "But I'm proud of you, too. Without you, she might never have felt brave enough to get out there. You helped her find her voice… or the frequency to break glass. Still. That was you."

.

Clarey doesn't win.

When Brown comes on the stage, he looks thrilled. He says the flow of talent this year rivaled some of the best years in the past, and Stacy knows exactly what he means. But it's the judges' duty to pick a single winner. Difficult as that may be.

"I just want to say, before we reveal the winner here- how about another round of applause for Clarey Watson! The youngest camper to perform solo at Final Jam, ever! Our own Screamo Princess!"

The crowd comes alive for her one more time, and as they quiet down, Brown holds up the envelope. "And now the moment we've all been waiting for…"

The applause is immense. Stacy doesn't recognize the name.

It hardly matters.

…

The next morning is a sad one no matter what the year. Whether the girls are wearing Ugg boots or socks with Birkenstocks, it's still goodbye.

The juniors cry like the world's ending, claiming they're not ready to stop rocking yet. Brown swoops in, always armed with some silly saying about how you take the kids from the camp, but you can _never_ stop the rock. When that doesn't work, Dee lets them know when next year's sign-ups open. Gabe announces that Gs tickets are on him if anyone's in LA and wants to see them live.

Stacy is slightly overwhelmed by the number of campers that come up to her and thank her for being their counselor. Most of them she didn't even get to know very well over the course of the last three months, but they all seem so grateful for her help, for her classes, and the extra time she put in to help out with Final Jam. Tara is among them, and still a bit resistant to praise over her incredible performance last night.

Dee and Brown come up to her and wish her good luck with her label and the real world when she gets back to it. When they walk away, she knows she'll miss them. She finds that this day hurts worse now than it ever did when she was a kid.

Right now, Clarey's holding up the bus and fighting tears. She tugs at the straps of her backpack for a few seconds before she can't hold it anymore. She hugs Stacy, a few tears on her freckled cheeks. "Promise you'll come back next year."

"If Brown will have me."

"He better… that old man."

Stacy ruffles her hair even though it makes her growl a little bit. She can't help it. "If you ever need anything-"

"I know. I got you on Instagram! My friends at home are gonna _die_."

"Well, I'm glad. I think." Clarey starts up the steps into the bus. "Be good," Stacy tells her, forgetting for just a second who she's talking to.

.

Albert comes for her after lunch, the shiny limo looking so alien in the dirt lot of the camp that's been her home for the past three months. When he steps out, he looks happy to see her.

"Hey, kiddo," he says. "Did you have fun?"

Back in the day, she'd always respond to that with something like _abso-fruitly!_ But she's twenty-five now, and world-famous, and _mature._

"Yeah times a thousand," she says anyway, cringing a little afterward. He's known her since she was a little kid, seen her through all her phases, the glitter eyebrows, the eyeliner at fourteen when she was trying to be like Tess. He's practically family when she thinks about it.

"Does your dad still pay for your limos?" Tess' voice comes from behind her, startling her.

"Yes, he does," Albert answers for her. "Long time, Miss Tyler." If he notices the way Stacy reaches for her hand, he doesn't show it. Instead, he opens his door. "I'll let you two say your goodbyes."

How could she ever say goodbye to Tess Tyler? How had she done it before? She honestly cannot remember.

"I don't want to go back," she hears herself say as they sit down on the steps of the welcome center.

"Well, the power gets shut off tomorrow, so…"

"Tess…"

"I know. Back to your big life."

"Yeah, just this summer made it clear to me that…" She tucks her hair behind her ear. "I don't want _that_ anymore. I don't think I ever did, not like that at least… But I liked being here after a while, helping kids."

"You were great," Tess says genuinely. "I could see you doing what I do, singing lessons at the Y, high school choir. You'd probably be better at it than I am."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

Stacy takes in a breath, nervous for no real reason, she knows, yet she still feels on the verge of something she can't name, some precipice. "Can I call you?" she asks.

Tess' smile is just the slightest bit askew. "It'd be fucked up if you didn't. Times a thousand."

Stacy pushes her shoulder. "You're so…"

"You don't even know."

"No," Stacy says, feeling lighter in this moment than she has in years. Tess takes her hand and walks her over to the limo, the ridiculous length of it. She opens the door for her, smiling apprehensively, looking very much like she wants to say something.

"Wait," Tess says, pulling her gently by the arm. "It meant a lot to me, this summer. More than I can talk about."

Stacy kisses her warmly, one hand light on her neck. "I'll miss you too, angel girl."

…

…

**2019**

_Pop sensation Stacy DeBane has reportedly declined to renew her contract with Starfire Records this past weekend, shocking fans all around the world. After her brief brush with notoriety last year, Stacy had attended Camp Rock, a famed music summer camp run by the White Crows' Brown Cesario, as a volunteer counselor and emerged ready to rebuild her reputation within the industry. She released a series of apology videos for her behavior and issues with managing her temper and played several benefit concerts for a wide array of charities, including the DeBane Foundation for Musical Education that works to fund music programs in underprivileged public schools and community centers throughout the country. After putting so much effort into rebuilding her name, it is unclear why the star would choose to fall from fame. One thing we are certain of; Stacy DeBane has left a lasting mark on the industry, and her rise from infamy will be remembered for decades to come._

.

The hanging bag on her back patio doesn't exactly collect dust, but she means it less when she practices her combinations. It's the only thing left in her apartment, and she doesn't have much time left with it before the mover she promised it to comes by for it.

She hasn't been in Seattle for months. It doesn't even feel like home anymore. Nothing does in comparison to the cramped two-bedroom in LA where she's been staying with Tess and Caitlyn and Terrifying Lydia, who Gabe was totally right about.

Instead of her usual podcast or recording of her past infamy, Stacy puts on Tess' new album, _Conditions_. She's featured on a few tracks, but it's Tess' show and it's incredible. It's only been out a few weeks and it already has millions of streams. It's so popular, it plays everywhere they go, and Stacy couldn't be more proud, even if it embarrasses Tess a little.

Stacy punches the bag, hard, telling it her future. What she wants for herself. The teaching job she has lined up for the fall to come through. The approaching summer at Camp Rock to be even better than the last two. Seeing the Gs live on Thursday. Tess at the airport when her plane lands. Tess at home writing songs about the way her shoulder meets her neck, the sunlight across her back, her eyes. Tess, her best friend since her tiara days, and now and for as long as she'll have her. Never writing another breakup album again. A week without rage. A month and no tunnel vision.

She punches until Albert buzzes and then keeps going when she hears the door open. It almost makes her laugh how much better things have gotten even though they haven't changed, not that much at least.

She's happiest during the summer, remembering what it's like to love someone so much you think your heart might break from it. Singing to each other jigsaw puzzle pieces of songs, carving into the dock _tess & stacy were here._

**Author's Note:**

> lyrics used: Conditions - Squirrel Flower, High - Phoebe Green, Can I Say Baby - GIRLI, Mortal Bus Boy - Shelf Life, Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl - Broken Social Scene, and Cool & Collected - Let's Eat Grandma. if u made it this far, love u.


End file.
